"
"Sir," I said, "from my heart I thank you for that pious, kindly wish; and
I would that I might fully correspond to it. But Agostino d'Anguissola,
who has been so near to death in the body, is, indeed, dead to the world
already. Here you see but a poor hermit named Sebastian, who is the
guardian of this shrine."
Gervasio rose suddenly. "This shrine..." he began in a fierce voice, his
face inflamed as with sudden wrath. And there he stopped short. The
priest was staring at him, and through the open door came Leocadia with a
bowl of steaming broth. "We'll talk of this again," he said, and there was
a sort of thunder rumbling in the promise.
CHAPTER IX
THE ICONOCLAST
It was a week later before we returned to the subject.
Meanwhile, the good priest of Casi and Leocadia had departed, bearing with
them a princely reward from the silent, kindly eyed Galeotto.
To tend me there remained only the boy Beppo; and after my long six months
of lenten fare there followed now a period of feasting that began to
trouble me as my strength returned. When, finally, on the seventh day, I
was able to stand, and, by leaning on Gervasio's arm, to reach the door of
the hut and to look out upon the sweet spring landscape and the green tents
that Galeotto's followers had pitched for themselves in the dell below my
platform, I vowed that I would make an end of broths and capons' breasts
and trout and white bread and red wine and all such succulences.
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